


Zwischenzug

by Neophobia



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (Not between SaiOuma), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Beta Shuichi, Hurt Ouma, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Ouma, Protective Shuichi, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, no explicit sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neophobia/pseuds/Neophobia
Summary: Zwischenzug (n.): An "in between move", where a player, instead of playing the expected move, first inserts a move which the opponent must answer, before making the expected move.In the middle of an important mission involving important information that Shuichi volunteered to be responsible for, he and Ouma are captured in an ambush. Shuichi knows that anything involving Ouma already has a tendency to go from bad to worse, but their situation quickly gets worse in a way he's never expected.





	1. Chapter 1

They’re pushed into a cell.

“You’ll never find my hidden treasure!” Ouma shouts the moment he’s regained his footing. Their captors are long gone. Shuichi stares.

“I don’t think they’re after any treasure.”

Ouma huffs. “It’s called  _ bluffing, _ Saihara-chan. Keep up.” He sits cross-legged on the ground, grime staining the underside of his clothes, covering the bloodstains left over from the field skirmish. He doesn’t have seem to have any wounds, however, other than minor scratches they’d all received from having to tear through miles of heavy underbrush. At least Ouma’s wounds are one problem they don’t need to worry about. 

Everything else is a different story.

If he were to list the problems from minor concern to major issue, the list would go: there’s a throbbing in his shoulder—probably sprained; he doesn’t see any immediate exit, although he’ll have to wait for Ouma’s consensus on that; they’re sure to get a mouthful from Kirigiri-san for separating from the group and then getting kidnapped in the stupidest way possible (tranquilizer darts— _ stupid) _ ; there’s a chance that their squadron thinks they defected, which Ouma had been saying he’d do for weeks now; and finally, the flash drive with the map of known Remnant hideouts is in his mouth.

If one were to be optimistic, they could say the last point has its benefits. Benefits as in one, singular: Shuichi knows where the map is, and the other side doesn’t.

“You know, if they thought we had treasure to offer maybe they won’t torture us for information,” Ouma chirps. “Or, hmm… or would they torture us for the treasure..? Or maybe if they torture us it’d be better either way. Maybe you’ll bite down so hard in pain that the handy little friend back there will go—” He clasps his hands together, a hissing sounds escaping between his teeth.

“Be quiet,” Shuichi snaps, glancing upward. He runs his tongue over the smooth metal lodged in the back of his mouth. It had been a painful process to get it lodged in there, but Shuichi was the one had volunteered. Plus, Iruma’s gadgets never failed when it came to efficiency—if he didn’t see it go in himself, he doubts that he would’ve been able to tell if it was a real tooth or not. 

“Maybe it’s better that way,” Ouma continues, actually bothering to lower his voice a notch or two. “Better than them knowing there’s a traitor in their midst, right?”

“Too many people have died,” Shuichi mutters. Too many had died trying to get this map to their side. Countless operatives they’ve sent in, from grunts to agents to senior officials, and most of them had perished one way or another. The Future Foundation did really have the worst luck—after months of failed attempts, the one time they get it right is the one Shuichi was there to mess up. If they hadn’t separated from the group—

“Stop it with your self-righteous act, Saihara-chan. It’s pathetic.”

Shuichi starts. Ouma is all-too-close to his face, peering through his soul with wide, violet eyes. He snickers as Shuichi scrambles to get away. “Oh boo-hoo, I can’t believe I messed it all up, I’m the worst, poor me,” Ouma cries in a high-pitched voice that does not resemble Shuichi’s voice at  _ all. _ “Et cetera et cetera. Why not use that big brain of yours? We were ambushed for a reason—a reason that is clear to everyone in this room but  _ shouldn’t _ be clear to anyone else. But it was. And now here we are.” He throws up his hands. “Getting away from it was the best course of action, and it was obviously sheer luck that we got caught at all—no matter who had it, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

It’s all-too easy to connect the dots. Images of high fives and shared smiles after a successful mission flash in his mind. 

One of their friends is a traitor.

Ouma, seeing his horrified expression, snickers. “Ooooh, going to fall into despair? Going to bang your head against the ground until it bleeds? Slit your wrists? If you are, I’m doing it with you—wow, we could make it a lovers’ death!”

Shuichi flashes him a weary look. “You say that like you knew.”

“I suspected,” Ouma says, not missing a beat.

They stare at each other.

“Could it be that you’re suspecting me?” Ouma bursts into laughter, clutching his midriff like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “Well, I would’ve asked for a king-sized bed in our cell, at least. I’ve already ordered it—when it gets brought in by my despair minions, you have my permission to murder me with your—your fingers, or whatever.” He wrinkles his nose. “Oh, that’s gross. You’re a sicko, Saihara-chan.”

_ You thought of it, _ Shuichi thinks. But Ouma’s right—he’s sure it would’ve been a more eloquent kidnapping if Ouma was the traitor. This was messy. Again, tranquilizer darts—what subordinate of the Ultimate Despair would use tranquilizer darts as a part of their plan? It was a last-ditch move, obviously—the traitor hadn’t thought Shuichi would separate from the fighting, try to get away altogether without relying on the power of the group. Another thing Ouma is right about. 

“If you’re done throwing a pity party, let’s move onto the more exciting part.” Ouma jumps up onto the balls of his feet. “While you were busy  _ moping, _ I was busy digging a hole to freedom!”

Shuichi perks up. “The walls are soft enough?”

“Nope! That was a lie.” Shuichi’s not even disappointed. “I squished a microphone bug though. You’re welcome.” That explains why Ouma was talking so freely. “Oh, and here’s something even better: the bars are pretty wide! If I starved for a few days, I might be able to wiggle through.” 

“Is that a lie?” Because from what Shuichi can see, it doesn’t seem like there’s much space between the bars at all.

Ouma pouts. “Geez, have a little faith, young padawan. I have more tricks up my sleeve than you think. Whether or not we have a few days is the question.”

“Already planning an escape? How scary,” a new voice says, tone slathered in sarcasm. 

It’s a familiar voice that Shuichi’s heard in too many nightmares, but not a voice he’d thought he’d ever hear again in person. In hell, maybe, after they were all dead. He even sees Ouma’s face harden for a split second before it breaks into a wide, plastic grin.

“Shirogane-chan, wow! It’s been a while. Did you get more old lady wrinkles on your face or is that just my perfect 20/20 vision?”

“Still as charming as ever,” Shirogane says sweetly. She stands at the cell door, relaxed, the picture of a model student if it weren’t for the hard shards of her ice-blue eyes. Gone is the kindness Shuichi saw there, once. And without it—she might as well be a stranger. “And Saihara-kun? How have you been?” 

Shirogane Tsumugi. Former member of the 53rd squadron and most wanted remnant number three. Responsible for the incident that caused the collapse of one of the Future Foundation’s biggest armories, an event that injured hundreds and killed dozens—a member of their squadron included. Shuichi’s read her list of crimes too many times. He had to—considering he’s the only one she’d divulged her entire plan to before she’d executed it. Shuichi still doesn’t know why she did it, or what her game plan is. But if she wanted to get into his head, she’s succeeded.

He’s dreamt, many nights, what would’ve happened if he had understood her cryptic words sooner, that day. If he hadn’t frozen up when her breath ghosted over the skin of his ear, if he had grabbed her throat then and there and made her pass out—or worse. Would Amami have lived? 

The possibility haunts him.

He fixes an icy stare on her, refusing to play along. Shirogane gives a disappointed sigh. “The silent treatment, huh? Not very Shuichi-like of you.”

“Not very Junko-like of you to keep us alive,” Ouma chirps. Shuichi feels a spark of gratitude towards the smaller boy, who is obviously trying to divert Shirogane’s attention. Or maybe, in his own way, Ouma has been wanting this. Even though he had seemed the least affected by Amami’s death (a point which had been a point of contention between Ouma and the rest of the squadron for a few months), he’s never been one for showing the rest of them his real feelings. Maybe he’s grieved in the privacy of his own room, and maybe he’s wished for revenge.

Shirogane’s eyes turn dangerous. It spurs Ouma on. “Well then, I’m dying of anticipation—Chinese water torture? Electrocution? Iron maiden? Do we get a last supper type of deal where we get a huge meal and are immortalized as martyrs?” 

“I’m sure Ennoshita-sama would appreciate the despair that’s brought by keeping you alive.”

Ouma picks at his nails, looking bored. “Yeah, I’m feeling really despair-ful right now. Despairing? What’s the lingo you remnants use nowadays?”

Shirogane seems to barely restrain herself from strangling Ouma then and there. She instead turns to Shuichi, eyes blazing. “You can drop the act, Saihara-kun. I know you have the map. Where is it?”

He stays silent. His heart drums in his ears.

“Where. Is. It.”

“Stomped on it,” Ouma says. “As soon as we got in here. Snoozers are losers, Shirogane-chan!”

A brief look of panic crosses over Shirogane’s features. She seems to gain control over herself as her panic becomes calculating, thoughtful. “You’re lying,” she says, as smug as a cat with a mouse in its claws. “That information is too precious for you to destroy. I know I have you cornered—but we were friends once. Classmates.” Longing creeps into her voice. If he didn’t know better, he would think it genuine. “And that means something to me. So Saihara-kun—” her voice becomes sing-song— “this is your last chance to hand it over peacefully, and neither of you get hurt. For old time’s sake?”

In the pleading look she gives him, Shuichi can see a glimpse of the Shirogane he used to know. Bile rises in his throat, and he has to look away.

Ouma glances towards him. “I think he’s telling you to shove your offer up your ass,” he suggests.

A violent crash rattles the bars, but neither Shuichi nor Ouma flinch. “Fine,” Shirogane says, moving away and cradling a blood-streaked fist to her chest. “There are other ways of making you talk.”

In the middle of walking out, she turns back with a twisted smile. “And Ouma-kun? If you break the next microphone that I bring for you two, your hand comes off. Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am!” Ouma gives a false salute, then rolls his eyes the moment her footsteps echo into the stairwell. “Classic amputation threat. Not even original.”

Shuichi’s mind is racing. The other side needs the map as much as they do. Could it be that some of the remnants have defected? But no one’s ever escaped the Ultimate Despair’s brainwashing once they’ve been subject to it—so why need the map so desperately if not to locate other remnants?

Dammit. They don’t have enough information. Shuichi’s used to being able to glean information from supposed dead ends, but nothing about this makes sense. 

“Don’t drive yourself crazy, Saihara-chan, just think of this as a vacation from things. We’ve worked hard lately—oh, look! Free food!”

A masked woman enters the room and barely manages to squeeze two bottles of water and two wrapped sandwiches between the bars. She leaves quickly, a sneer plastered on her face. Ouma pays her barely any mind, greedily snatching up both of the sandwiches and tearing into one, keeping the other close at hand.

“What happened to starving yourself for a few days?” Shuichi asks.

“I decided it was a stupid plan. My next plan is to eat as much as possible and break through the walls, Hulk-style.” Mid-bit, Ouma pauses. “Although, Saihara-chan, it’s probably best if you don’t eat one. Next thing you know you’ll be knocked out and transported to Shirogane-chan’s kink chamber or something.”

Ouma munches on the sandwich, not bothering to hide his obvious hypocrisy. It’s clear he’s up to something, but he’s likely not going to reveal his plan anytime soon. Shuichi doesn’t inquire further (the sandwiches, as Ouma pointed out then chose to ignore,  _ are  _ probably laced with something. He’s not hungry anyway) and chooses to inspect the water bottles instead. There’s a small device with a blinking red light stuck on the outside of one—the replacement mic Shirogane must’ve been talking about, Shuichi realizes. Remembering her threat, he stomps down the urge to crush it immediately. She’s so far gone that she might actually follow through with chopping off Ouma’s hand.

Ouma is the one most at risk here. He’s dispensable. Shirogane might need Shuichi for the map, but Ouma’s only use is leverage against Shuichi. Despite appearances, he has been working with Ouma for almost a year now. He’d be heartless to not care about his well-being. And, in general, he’s not a fan of anyone getting tortured on his behalf.

He watches Ouma scarf down the remains of his sandwich. “Water?” he asks, holding out the bottle. It’s in Ouma’s grasp instantly, and he gulps it down with the intensity of a man stranded in a desert. 

“Are you alright?” Shuichi asks, even though what he really wants to say is ‘what’s your deal, we’re stuck in this situation together so why not just tell me so that we can work to get out, together.’ But with Ouma’s self-proclaimed trust issues and general lack of healthy social habits, he doubts he’ll get anything.

“Just peachy!” With a final gulp, Ouma tosses the empty water bottle to the floor and starts humming a merry tune.

Shuichi briefly considers the possibility that Ouma would escape by himself. It stays as a possibility in his head for a bit longer than Shuichi’s comfortable with, but ultimately, he dispels the idea. Ouma, despite all his bravado, knows to put the mission first. With Shuichi in possession of the map, Ouma can’t afford to leave him behind.

Which leads to a rather disturbing conclusion. If it came down to it, Shuichi would be the one leaving  _ Ouma _ behind, for the sake of the mission.

Sacrifice is one of the realities of working for the Future Foundation.

“Saihara-chan,” Ouma says with a yawn, “Don’t drink the water, m’kay? There’s definitely some kind of sedative in there.” Then he promptly curls up on the ground and falls asleep.

Sacrifice—Shuichi can only hope it doesn’t come to that.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 3/10 day! In celebration, instead of updating any of my current fics/AUs that have been untouched for a year, I am coming in hot with a brand-new, completely self-indulgent AU. That's just how I roll; but my sincerest apologizes to those waiting for my other fics/AUs. I can't guarantee I'll come back to them, but I hope to one day.
> 
> Just a warning: there's not going to be any sex. There will be allusions to sex and the typical stuff that comes with writing ABO, but I will not be writing explicit sex.
> 
> Updates will be sporadic bc uni, but this is one fic where ideas have been coming to me like crazy so it's just whether or not I have the time to sit down and write. I'll be posting chapters as I write them! Feel free to point out any errors/general criticism/things I'm doing wrong in the comments, as well as things I'm doing right (especially characterization - I still have a hard time writing Shuichi). Comments and kudos are literally are my lifeblood! Thanks for bothering to read my rambling, I hope you have a wonderful day :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up.
> 
> Warnings: Mentioned character death, discussion of non-con

Ouma’s breathing becomes heavier.

Shuichi doesn’t notice it, too busy trying to come up with something—plan of action, a way to bargain—anything. But when their only method of leverage is the thing they can’t afford to lose—

The reason he notices Ouma’s irregular breathing at all is because, at one point, it hitches. Violently. Like the breath in his throat is abruptly cut off, like someone’s hit him hard in the back and the only air he has comes out as a scratchy, choked sound from the back of his lungs. But by the time Shuichi’s scrambled over to him, his breathing is normal again.

But heavier. Every breath requiring a little more effort than just a few minutes ago. Shuichi’s hand hovers as he wonders whether or not to wake him, but his still figure indicates deep slumber, not distress.

Could someone lie while they were sleeping? Shuichi doesn’t underestimate Ouma enough to immediately answer ‘no’. His answer might even lean towards ‘yes’. Because that’s how Ouma is. And ironically, he prefers Ouma’s lies to his truths, which—out of Ouma’s mouth—can be cruel. Even frightening.

In the year that Shuichi’s known Ouma—known as in ‘been a part of the same squadron as’; the span of time he’s personally interacted with Ouma is much less—the one and only time he’s seen Ouma be straightforward was directly after the Shirogane incident. Before they’d realized she was the culprit behind the bombing, that she had betrayed them.

Directly after the incident, Ouma was the main suspect. As kind as he claimed his lies to be, they were self-incriminating. And even beyond that, his lies were often in tandem with the little insults he’d throw around, which hit too close to home at times. Ouma took pride in his childish jokester image, he reveled in the lies he spun and the people he pissed off. The only people he’d ever let close, as far as Shuichi knew, were Gonta and Amami.

And Amami was dead.

Shuichi remembers standing next to Kaede during the interrogation. She’d been close with Amami-san, and while the rest of the team bombarded Ouma with accusations and probing questions, she asked—without looking at him, with glittering tears dripping from her cheeks— “Why did you kill Amami-kun?”

The smile dropped from his face instantly, wiping it devoid of emotion. “I didn’t,” he replied. Flat. But sincere. The only lie he hadn’t told.

Shuichi feels compelled to offer Ouma reassurance, somehow. He settles his hand on Ouma’s arm, as gently as he can without disturbing him. Then, he carefully traces his fingers down his arm and onto the exposed skin peeking out from beneath his sleeve. His pulse is a little high and his skin a little warm, but that may be normal for him. Shuichi has no way of knowing—this is the first time he’s ever had skin-to-skin contact with Ouma.

Ouma shifts in his sleep, and Shuichi jumps, snatching his hand back. It’s a little weird and very pointless for him to be doing this. If Ouma was awake he’d definitely give him a long, prolonged glare or go off about harassment. And he’d have a point.

Shuichi drops his hand, face warm. Ouma shifts in his sleep and, as if he senses the lack of touch, frowns at Shuichi with disapproval.

It’s not as if Ouma’s awake, but even then, Shuichi feels the embarrassment heating his face and faces the opposite cement wall, face resolute. He thinks about escape, yesterday’s breakfast, about the piles of paperwork on his desk he’ll never get the chance to do if they die in this place. Anything but how pale Ouma is or how peaceful he looks in sleep.

Shuichi swears he wasn’t this much of a creep before they were brought into the cell. But he’s not the Ultimate Detective because of his lack of curiosity; it’s hard not to be fascinated when this is a side of Ouma that few ever see. It’s honesty. Different from the honesty most would prefer to hear from Ouma’s mouth, but honesty nonetheless.

Or maybe Shirogane’s craziness is affecting him. He wipes his eyes, hoping it’ll wipe away the thoughts as well as the drowsiness starting to pull at his eyelids.

Neither works. At some point during his self-imposed vigil, Shuichi falls asleep. He supposes it’s right around the time he gives into thirst and chooses to chug the rest of the water in the fallen water bottle rolling around next to Ouma’s snoozing form. Which means Ouma was right about Shirogane putting a sedative in there—but when Shuichi wakes up a couple hours later, hydrated and rested, he finds it hard to be regretful.

It was a risky move, falling asleep in the hands of the enemy, but Shuichi’s glad he took the chance. They haven’t been transported to a torture chamber, the flash drive is still in its place, and they’re not going to die of dehydration. Why even bother drugging the water if nothing comes out of it except an advantage for them? It makes him wonder.

Ouma is also in better spirits than the night before. When Shuichi sits up, still struggling to blink the traces of sleep out of his eyes, Ouma’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed, a droning, humming noise coming from his throat. He opens one eye at the sound of Shuichi’s shuffling.

“Morning, Saihara-chan!” he chirps, not moving a muscle otherwise. “Care to join me in morning meditation? I’m doing it just like Angie-chan taught me.”

Shuichi blinks. “Um, sure?” After the one-sided, awkwardly intimate moment last night, he’s finding it a little hard to look Ouma in the eye. Mostly out of embarrassment. Shuichi’s never been great at hiding emotions, and he feels like his shame will be scrawled all over his face.

If Ouma notices how Shuichi’s gaze is boring into the ground as he talks (which he probably does), he pays it no mind. “Well, it’s all nonsense. Geez, I thought you’d have more sense than to believe in that stuff. This isn’t the time to be sitting around!”

With that final, passionate exclamation, Ouma remains sitting.

Shuichi clears his throat. It’s not even that big a deal. There’s no reason for him to be so flustered, he only checked Ouma’s pulse, it’s not like he—

“Did Shirogane come in while I was out?” he asks, forced to cut off his own train of thought before it goes to a strange, spiraling place. He feels a bit light-headed, a bit warm. Dizzy—not disoriented, but like his ears are full of cotton.

“She came in saying she was tired of this world and that she’s letting us both go free before she dies a very tragic, Romeo-and-Juliet death with one of her slimy underlings. Isn’t that great?”

“Tragic,” Shuichi mumbles, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Isn’t it? Well, it’s a lie, so.”

He doesn’t feel warm. Then again, it’s impossible to take your own temperature.

“Saihara-chan?”

He’s getting that weird sensation again—an urge to reach out, touch, offer comfort. What does he have to be embarrassed about? It’s a friendly enough gesture, and maybe Ouma will appreciate it. Maybe he’ll finally let his guard down, relax a bit. A sweet scent wafts through the air. The air seems to get denser by the second.

It’ll only be a second.

Shuichi pauses, blinking, escaping whatever stupor just overtook him. Ouma is still sitting there, but with Shuichi only a couple inches apart from him. He doesn’t say anything, waiting for Shuichi to piece it together with narrowed, knowing eyes.

And Shuichi knows. Knows what’s going on, what’s been going on since last night. The cold realization is enough to shake off the chemical, biological urge gnawing at his insides—but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

Ouma’s an omega.

Omegas are rare. The Tragedy hit them the hardest after alphas. While alphas make up around seven percent of the population, the percentage of omegas is even less. Betas make up the rest, and the question of ‘why’ is still a hot topic of biological scientists within the Foundation. Did betas happen to have a biological resistance to Junko’s tactics or did Junko target alphas and omegas in particular?

Shuichi doesn’t have a particular opinion either way, partly because he’s not a scientist and mostly because he hasn’t had a lot of exposure to any other genders besides beta, and Shuichi himself is a beta. The few remaining alphas and omegas tend to make themselves discreet as to not paint a target on their backs, and Shuichi knows firsthand that there’s a considerable market (above and underground) for pheromone-controlling substances for alphas and omegas alike. The only alpha in his own squadron (who admit to it, anyway) is Kaito. Even then, it doesn’t distinguish him much from the others, and the only difference Shuichi’s noticed is his slightly sharper scent once every three months. Sure, Hoshi’s grumbled about Kaito having a ‘typical alpha’ attitude once or twice but it’d never been a big deal, just something mentioned once in casual, light-hearted conversation.

There is nothing casual about this.

Shuichi worries his bottom lip, not wanting to say something… wrong. He only recalls bits of information from his high school health textbook. He supposes it helps.

“Aren’t you on drugs?” Shuichi blurts.

A blush blooms over his face at Ouma’s burst of laughter. But even with crippling humiliation settling on his shoulders, the heavier weight of concern lifts. “Are you kidding me, Saihara-chan? Who isn’t? You’re so innocent.”

Shuichi keeps standing there. Blushing. “For your heat,” he amends, inwardly cursing his mental processes.

“I get it, and to answer your question, _yes_ , I’m on ‘drugs.’ But I also got put on ‘drugs.’ Get it?”

At his clueless stare, Ouma lets out a deep sigh. “Geez, how clueless are you? Okay, I’m going to say it once, ready?” A breath. “It’s called an aph. Ro. Dis. I. Ac. Okay?”

“Aphrodisiac?”

“I said I’d only say it once, didn’t I?” Ouma rolls his eyes. “She really is getting boring. That’s the most uncreative one in the books. What is this, some kind of bad romance novel? If she threatens to deflower me, then I guess she’d be even _more_ predictable—”

_"_ _Ouma-kun! "_

“It’s a classic trope!” Ouma pouts. “Anyway, you should snap my neck then and there. I’d rather die than live knowing put her grubby hands all over me. But she _won’t_ ,” he adds pointedly, glancing at Shuichi’s gaping mouth. “Because she knows better than to mess with bonding and stuff. She can’t be that dumb.”

Disturbed. That’s what Shuichi feels, standing here listening to Ouma talk about being drugged and potentially raped like he’s used to it. Bile rises in his throat.

Ouma must mistake his stony face for unamusement, because his face splits into a wide grin. “That’s a lie! She probably is that dumb. Fucking bitch.” The curse flows out of Ouma’s mouth dripping with honey, almost fond. But Shuichi doesn’t miss the vitriol behind the words—how could he, when the same feeling is boiling in the pit of his stomach.

The feeling is primal. A base instinct. Shuichi pushes it down. He’s thankful, at least, for the ability to keep a clear mind, even with the sweet, dizzying smell permeating the air. But it’s not an easy battle—his fingers still twitch to get to Ouma, and he’s sure he would have if he weren’t a beta. He wonders what alphas feel, if this desire to reassure is a beta-only trait.

He also wants to give a stern talking-to to the person who wrote his high school human biology textbook. ‘Betas are neutral as they are affected by neither alpha nor omega pheromones’? Right.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Let me think,” Ouma says, tapping his chin. “I’m a unbonded omega who hasn’t had a heat in a year, and who knows what drug has just been ingested by my body that is powerful enough to bypass suppressants. So I’d say, nope, nothing to worry about here!”

Great. Well. “How do you feel right now?”

“As healthy as an eighty-year-old man with a severe case of dementia!” he chirps.

If he’s feeling good enough to shoot off multi-layered lies in a row, Shuichi supposes Ouma can’t be in a bad condition. It’s relief. If the effects haven’t hit Ouma yet, they have time to figure things out, to execute a plan before Ouma’s in the worst of it.

It’s relief that makes Shuichi’s guard lower just enough that, without realizing it, he’s reaching out to put a hand on Ouma’s arm—he snaps back to attention just in time to reel his hand back, but his fingertips still end up brushing Ouma’s shoulder.

It’s a mistake.

Ouma flinches. Violently. Shuichi sees the full-body tremor wrack through Ouma’s skinny frame, sending him to the floor on his elbows, no longer retaining the composed lotus position of Angie’s meditation, but the look of an animal backed into a corner.

“Don’t touch me,” Ouma spits, eyes darkened with anger and another emotion unfamiliar to Shuichi and unfamiliar on Ouma’s face. He keeps one hand on the shoulder Shuichi had barely touched, gripping it tight as if it’s been cut through.

Worst of all, the space Ouma was sitting is covered in a translucent liquid that Shuichi smells before he sees. If he thought the scent was strong before, this is a dozen times that. It’s slick.

And as Ouma glares at him from the floor, his slight panting ringing in the air—Shuichi knows they’re in deep trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all to those who left comments, they were all really wonderful to read! And this fic has already broken 50 kudos???? I'm really floored, thank you all so much. I hope this super boring and explain-y chapter doesn't drive you away. But then again, this fic is pure wish fulfillment and there's nothing I like more than worldbuilding....
> 
> Just as a note, 'gender' in this world is alpha/beta/omega and 'secondary gender' is male, female, or anything in between and not between. If there's anything that was confusing about this chapter pls let me know so I can flesh it out, I'm super unsatisfied with this chapter but it's been two weeks so I decided to just go away and post it. Comments always appreciated, I'll try to have the next chapter out in the next couple weeks (where things will heat up even more like wow)!!!


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